


Be My Detonator

by franticatlantic



Category: Bandom, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Mask Sex, pee desperation, throatfucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 01:21:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8601643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/franticatlantic/pseuds/franticatlantic
Summary: Robbing banks is thirsty work.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is for an [anon](http://vintagetyler.tumblr.com/post/153271709618/hi-i-had-this-idea-for-a-fic-where-ty-and-josh) who wanted a bank robber au and [someone](http://vintagetyler.tumblr.com/post/153372070538/idk-if-youre-taking-requests-rn-or-not-but-do-you) who wanted pee desperation. i hope you both like this!
> 
> title is from the song 'na na na' by my chemical romance.

Tyler draws Josh in for a biting kiss by the lapels of his red jacket. The scratchy fiber of their ski masks gets stuck between their lips and Josh hisses, tries to pull away. But Tyler keeps him there with one hand still clutched onto his jacket, the other snaking around to press the gun he holds to the small of Josh’s back.

Then he whimpers, and Tyler silences him with another kiss, this one quick as their spit dries around the edges of the masks. It’s the middle of Summer, an unprecedented heat wave rolling its way leisurely through the city of Columbus. Josh’s eyes are closed - almost blissfully - and through the holes in his mask Tyler sees the normally pale white of Josh’s skin turned pink.

A heat flush, possibly from the kiss they shared. But Tyler doubts that - even he’s hot under his suit, sweat dripping in great rivulets down his back, sticking his shirt to the curve of his spine like some kind of shadow bent on baking him alive.

Josh opens his eyes and Tyler smiles, hands him the big black duffel bag. “Got your water?”

With a sure hand, Josh flips one side of his jacket open and Tyler sees his gun and the giant bottle of Dasani they grabbed from the 7/11 down the street in two holsters hanging from Josh’s belt.

“Good boy.” He gives two chaste kisses, one to each of Josh’s heated eyelids, and then turns him toward the side door of the bank. “Now.”

Obeying Tyler’s order, Josh yanks the glass plated door open and steps through. Tyler follows and their shoes make soft squeaking sounds on the marble floor, but no one is looking at them until Tyler raises his gun - a sleek, black semiautomatic - and fires three rounds into the ceiling.

A few of the lightbulbs overhead shatter, spraying glass over the floor like a million tiny crystals. Most people cower down instinctually, hands raised in funny half-salutes near their faces. Still, Tyler screams, “On the ground!” just for good measure.

Josh sprints to the side door for employee use only, motions for the security guard there to hand over his gun. Instead he’s reaching for it like he plans to use it.

Tyler tuts and aims his gun at the nearest civilian, a guy in athletic shorts and a tank top, wearing a red and white sweatband. Fresh off a run, withdrawing a couple hundred to head on over to Whole Foods and buy his raw, vegan dinner for the night. He’s sniffling as Tyler presses the muzzle of the gun into his hairline. “Wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Still the guard looks like he wants to chance it. After all, what’s one dead pedestrian to being proclaimed a city-wide hero for taking down two of the most notorious bank robbers in Columbus?

But Josh surges forward before he can make the choice, snatches the pistol from its holster and motions for him to join the rest of the people on the floor.

Tyler stares down at the man sniveling at his feet, tilts his head as he shoves hard with his gun and the man falls easily, now flat on the floor. “Did you see that? He was gonna let you die.” He watches the man for a minute, listens to the surrounding mutterings and gasps of confusion and horror, sees Josh out of the corner of his eye taking the guard’s keys and disappearing into the back hallway, reappearing not a moment later at the first teller’s window. “I want everyone down on the ground like my man here. Flat, with your arms held out. No talking, no sudden movements. I hear anything or see anything out of the ordinary, you’ll be pushing daisies before your husbands and wives can even wonder why you aren’t home for dinner.”

The muttering quiets and the bank attendees start to obey as Tyler steps around them, picking his way through prone bodies and women’s purses that went flying the minute Tyler’s gun popped off.

From somewhere to his right, in the very middle of the floor, a young girl stares up at him. She’s cute, with blonde pigtails and wide blue eyes. Not knowing any better, her heart-shaped lips break into a wide grin and she raises her fingers an inch off the floor, waving at him. There’s a sizable gap between her two front teeth.

The woman next to her, presumably her mother, gasps. “Jenna!”

“I said no talking, right?” He aims the gun at the woman, who whimpers and closes her eyes, resigned to her fate, resigned to leave her little girl here on Earth short one mother. And the little girl giggles, stifling her laughter into her elbow.

Tyler steps over the girl and her mother, goes to the second teller’s window, where he plucks a lollipop from the glass bowl on the counter. None of the teller spaces are big enough for the employees inside to lay completely flat, so they’re all still sitting in their chairs, watching Tyler with wary eyes.

He saunters backward just enough to be able to see the whole row of them. When he waves his gun along the line there’s a collective shudder from the tellers, as they flinch back. “Let me see your hands on your desks. If any of you press those panic buttons I know are conveniently located underneath said desks, you’re dead. When my cohort arrives at your cubicle, you’re to heed his instructions and empty your tills into his bag. Or you’re dead. Any lip, any back talk, any-fucking-thing that he might misconstrue as you not being the obedient little helpers we need you to be, you’re dead. Understand?” Nothing. “Understand?”

The tellers nod, marionettes with their heads on strings, being pulled at by Tyler’s fingers.

“Excellent,” he intones, just in time to see Josh enter the second teller’s cubicle, muffled voice behind the glass telling the woman there to empty her till.

With a satisfied little smile, Tyler whirls and surveys the crowd again. Multiple people are trembling, a man off to the side is reaching into his pocket thinking Tyler won’t see.

Without thinking Tyler aims the semi in the man’s direction and depresses the trigger. There’s the maniacal cackling laughter of the bullets leaving the gun and entering the man’s body, which twitches in time with the shots and starts leaking blood onto the smooth, reflective floor.

Most of the people on the floor move only to turn their faces away from the carnage and Tyler sighs. “Now that we all know I’m as good as my word, we won’t have a repeat performance, will we?”

No one answers.

“Perfect.” Dancing through the sea of bodies, Tyler comes face to face with the little girl and her mother again. He holds the lollipop out to the girl, who takes it readily, skinny fingers brushing Tyler’s.

“What is that?” The mother hisses, and Tyler grunts unpleasantly, aims the gun at her once more.

“You really wanna fucking die, don’t you?” No response other than the woman closing her eyes again, mouthing prayers and pleas past chapped lips. Tyler watches this with rapt fascination as the woman’s daughter unwraps the lollipop and sticks it in her mouth, humming delightedly.

“Eggsy.” Josh calls his codename and Tyler gives the girl a ruffle to her hair.

As far as he knows, when he stands and goes to join Josh near the teller windows, he never sees the girl again.

“Everything’s here,” Josh tells him, proffering the bag, which is nearly overflowing with cash.

Tyler cups a hand around the back of Josh’s neck, fisting into the mask. He presses their foreheads together and someone sneezes.

Inevitably, however, their celebration is cut short by the police arriving, flashing reds and blues through the front windows of the bank, lights shattering on the morbid scene inside. Someone on a megaphone tells them to drop any weapons they might have and come out with their hands up, the usual spiel.

Josh actually yawns as Tyler leads him back behind into the employees-only hallway and waits for someone to call. They always do, eventually.

The phone in teller number four’s cubicle rings and Tyler rests the muzzle of his gun in the man’s short dark hair, tells him to answer. Without waiting for the teller to relay the message from the police or the FBI or whoever deemed this robbery important enough to show up, Tyler starts talking. “Tell them we have hostages. Tell them if they try to come in we have all the exits manned and people will die. Tell them we’ll be out of their hair in an hour.”

For the next 60 minutes Tyler sits Josh down at a table by the last teller and has him drink the contents of his water bottle. It’s slow going, considering he drank a full one before they left this morning, but eventually the last of the water drizzles from the bottle into Josh’s mouth. Some drips out and into his mask

“That’s not all,” Tyler chides playfully.

Josh’s tongue darts out and scoops the droplet up and he grins, the flashing lights bouncing off the glass of the windows and illuminating his dark eyes in startling reds and blues. Tyler kisses him, hard, teeth clacking as he presses a hand down over Josh’s middle, dress shirt molding in as Josh moans quietly.

“How d’you feel?”

“Full.”

Hand in hand, the duffel bag and Tyler’s gun bracketing them, Tyler and Josh find the basement, a throughway that leads them under the next two buildings to the East and then up beside a brick facade building proclaiming itself as Wyatt & Sons.

They don’t bother to do away with their masks, taking back streets and alleys to the 7/11 from before, where Josh tosses the bag in the backseat and then climbs in beside Tyler.

Tyler lashes out, presses the back of his forearm across Josh’s middle to see him squirm and cross his legs and then peels out of the parking lot.

-

At the apartment Josh dumps half the money on the floor in the living room and rolls around on it because that’s what he’s seen people in movies do. Tyler lets him because he loves Josh and Josh deserves all the finer things in this flaming shit heap people refer to as life, and if he wants to roll around on top of a couple hundreds for a few minutes then Tyler says have at it.

While Josh flops around, the bills rustling dryly beneath him, Tyler goes to the kitchen and pours a glass of water. He retreats into the bedroom and sits, glass resting on his knee. When he says, “Hey, Josh?” the rustling stops and rhythmic footsteps make their way to the bedroom door.

They both still have their masks on.

Josh eyes the glass of water and comes to stand in front of Tyler, taking it from him. He keeps his gaze steady with Tyler’s as he starts to gulp the contents of the glass. Tyler pushes the heel of his palm against Josh’s lower abdomen and Josh splutters, convulsing. But he knows better than to pull away.

Tyler presses harder and Josh downs the rest of the water quicker than Tyler’s ever seen him do it, making a loud ‘ahh’ sound as the glass leaves his lips. Tyler takes it from him and sets it on the nightstand, then kneels up on the bed and unzips his slacks.

He’s half hard, cock sticking straight out as he fists it twice, then plants both hands on his waist, and juts his hips toward Josh. Who is crawling onto the bed with his mouth already open wide, ready for Tyler.

“Good boy.” Josh preens at the title, lashes fluttering shut and getting caught on his mask. Tyler slides easily past Josh’s lips and the edges of the mask, letting himself just rest on Josh’s tongue as he leans over Josh’s back and gets an arm around his waist. “Suck.”

Josh starts to bob up and down on him, suctioning his lips and drenching Tyler’s dick, saliva and mucus from the back of Josh’s throat dripping down onto the chin of his mask. He has to angle himself up as Tyler gets harder, cock head brushing the top of his mouth.

Tyler starts to squeeze his arm around Josh’s waist, feeling where his bladder bulges out. Josh shakes and twists, but still doesn’t try to pull away. So Tyler does it again, harder.

Josh pops off of him and Tyler feels his head butting into Tyler’s stomach, resting there. “I have to go.”

“I know.” Tyler squeezes again and Josh thrashes. “Keep sucking me.”

“You’re gonna make me pee.”

“Mhm.” Tyler rolls his hips until the tip of his cock finds Josh’s slack mouth again, sliding in against the gentle graze of teeth. Josh isn’t moving at all - Tyler can see the muscles in his back holding him still. So Tyler fucks his cock in and out himself, knows he hits the back of Josh’s throat because of the blunt pressure he finds there combined with Josh’s full-body heave as he gags.

Using this to his advantage, Tyler slides his palm flat over Josh’s swollen belly and pushes. Josh moans pitifully and pops off again, head hanging between his shoulders now. “You’re gonna make me piss.” His voice is wrecked from Tyler’s dick.

“Maybe that’s what I want. Want you to wet yourself for me, Joshie.” He’s losing feeling in the arm he has braced on the bed so he switches, leans on his other hand and smacks Josh’s ass with his half-numb fingers.

Josh jolts forward and the rough material of his mask scrapes against the side of Tyler’s cock. “A little came out,” he whimpers, as Tyler hisses.

“Yeah?” Reaching under Josh, Tyler feels around the tent in his pants, finds a tiny wet patch at the very front. He presses there too, just over Josh’s cock.

“No, Ty-“

“Yes.”

“No, please. I have to pee so bad.” Josh’s head flails from side to side.

“If you have to go, then go.” Tyler gives one last hard push to his stomach.

“I-“ Only this, as Tyler slides his hand back down and feels the wetness spreading, Josh shaking under him.

Tyler extracts himself from their tangled limbs and rolls Josh onto his back, sees the dark of his pants going darker. He reaches down, grabs Josh by the front of his pants, and twists in a savage movement that has Josh bucking and crying out, but he stops peeing at least. “I didn’t say all of it.”

Josh whines and babbles incoherently, sticking his fingers in his mouth and dragging them, soggy with spit, down over the chin of his mask, messing it even further.

“You want something in your mouth, baby?” There’s a whine as Josh nods and Tyler’s on him again, sitting on his chest this time, knees planted beside either of his shoulders. He takes Josh’s head lovingly in his hands, running his fingers over the raspy mask. “Open up.”

Josh makes a perfect O with his lips and Tyler leans forward, hands now gripping the mask hard as he drags Josh’s head back and forth, fucking his face through the dark hole. Josh isn’t gagging anymore, instead making sickening little ‘gyuck’ sounds as Tyler’s cock abuses his throat. Tyler reaches back, presses down on Josh’s belly.

Josh tries to shake his head, but can’t with the way Tyler’s holding onto it. On a backwards swing of Tyler’s cock he tries to moan, but instead spit gets caught in his throat and he chokes. “You didn’t think you were _done_ , did you?” Tyler pushes as hard as he can and Josh’s hips leave the bed, though he crosses his legs so as to prevent anything coming out.

Still, the sight makes Tyler turn fully back around, ramming his cock into Josh’s mouth and emptying himself inside, sees the tears flowing freely from Josh’s eyes, trapped in the edges of his mask.

When he’s finished he taps the head of his spent cock against Josh’s lips and Josh takes a heaving breath in. Tyler climbs off of him, allowing Josh to turn onto his side and cough, the lower half of his mask a mess of cum and spit.

But he’s still not done yet. Tyler presses up behind Josh, humps his sensitive cock against the back of his pants, and winds an arm around Josh’s waist.

“Please, Ty.” Josh really sounds devastated now, voice hoarse and quaky. “I have to pee so bad. Let me go.”

“You heard me before. If you have to go you should go.”

“Not here, please. It hurts so bad.”

“This is how you get UTIs, you know.” Tyler’s voice is playful, but the arm digging into Josh’s middle is anything but. “Holding it in.”

“Shit,” Josh mutters, and his hand grabs at Tyler’s wrist. “I’m gonna piss.”

He does, shaking and trying to hide his face in the sheets. But Tyler leans up and over him, watching the skin he can see through the holes of Josh’s mask turn red. His crotch is sopping wet and getting wetter, Tyler’s fingers pushing and prodding at his bladder until he’s sure all of it is out.

Finally, when the action has come to an end, Tyler presses his lips together and pulls Josh’s mask off. Josh’s head lolls back on the bed and he stares at Tyler out of the corner of his damp eyes.

“Baby,” Tyler says, and yanks his own mask off, takes Josh’s face between his hands and kisses him. He tastes like cum and stale saliva, but Tyler licks inside anyway, soothing his tongue over Josh’s.

Josh clings to him weakly, and Tyler can feel the tiny tremors wracking his body. He ghosts a hand down Josh’s side and squeezes his hip. “Baby. Let me go run us a bath, okay? Are you up for that?”

Swallowing thickly, Josh nods, but his hands don’t leave Tyler, either unwilling or unable to let him go. “Tyler.”

“I’m here, baby. It’s me.” Tyler strokes Josh’s hair back, sweaty from being under the mask for so long. “You want something else? …can I interest you in a glass of water?”

Josh groans, but he’s smiling, twisting under Tyler and trying to pull him down. “Think I’ve had enough water for one day.”

“Remind me to bring more next time. After all, robbing banks is thirsty work.” And Tyler laughs long and loud.

**Author's Note:**

> always taking requests at my [tumblr](http://vintagetyler.tumblr.com/).


End file.
